


Deliberate Choice

by Zeratul



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online
Genre: Andorians, Cardassians, Family Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeratul/pseuds/Zeratul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could a deliberate choice of one start a path of peace for many?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliberate Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to a single white duty officer.
> 
> The same story in Russian ["Осознанный выбор"](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3768345).

_“Son, you should go back to Cardassia. You do understand that I am right. Are you still an… ensign? That is how they call it?”_  
  
Namin involuntarily rubbed the small insignia on his unfastened uniform collar. Dark rectangle that he could not replace with a light one already for fifteen years because of the prejudices that took place even among the Starfleet сaptains, despite the ratified equality of all intelligent beings.  
  
_“_ _You_ _are_ _not_ _even_ _a_ _soldier._ _Nor_ _a_ _doctor._ _What is the use of it for them? What_ _is_ _the_ _use_ _of_ _it_ _for_ _you?_ _Nobody needs your chattering!”_  
  
He stroked his face with his palm, trying to focus his mind. The message was new, but it seemed to repeat all the previous, word in word. And, like all the previous ones, it drove him into an impotent rage. The rage at that nobody respected his choice — to restore the reputation of his people among those, who considered every Cardassian as an enemy, and to find his place among the Starfleet officers. Whatever was the cost.  
  
_“_ _Things_ _you_ _do_ _are_ _pointless._ _And what about your sister? Now she is stuck on Earth too, because of your ill example! You respond our messages so rarely_ — _did you lose your voice because of cold?”_

Namin coughed, although it was warm in his quarters. A chronic cold became something normal for him from the very first years in the Academy. He even got used not to raise the temperature in his room to a comfortable level to not stress his body with constant temperature drops. But today the disease grabbed his throat stronger than ever, making his neckridges swell nastily and putting stifling phlegm all over his lungs. And he did not ask for any help yet, avoiding to meet senior science officer — a nervous intolerant Bajoran — in the sickbay. He would definitely call him a simulator and a manipulator.  
  
_“_ _Maybe_ _you_ _simply_ _like_ _it?_ _You like it when other species wipe their feet on you? If it is so, you really have nothing to do here. You are pathetic, like a prematurely old zabu. You will never help Cardassia if you cannot…"_  
  
“Computer, stop...” his command was interrupted by another spell of coughing that made his father’s speech unhearable.  
  
The door to his quarters opened, obeying the senior command code. Namin wanted to turn his head, but his coughing did not let him straighten himself up.  
  
“Counselor Jenro, why haven't you gone to the sickbay yet?” asked a low, slow female voice right above his ear, and the speech, still coming from the datapad dynamics, drowned in it.

“I am al...” an attempt to reply died in another spell of coughing. He took a few hard deep breaths and finally turned to his guest with a grumpy smile, “alrigh, Jhenas.”  
  
The Andorian shook her head in disapproval and pressed a button on his datapad, making the angry voice of Eran Jenro finally fall silent. Namin did not have time to react before she pressed a hypo to his neck. After half a minute he felt it much easier to breathe.  
  
“You have promised to show me your new holonovel,” her dark-blue lips smiled briefly, and thin antennae lowered in accusal. “It has been a week already, by the way,” she stroked his hair with her warm palm. “That's not right, Namin. If you spend all your day-offs like this…”  
  
“I feel better now, thank you,” he took her palm gently and pressed to his lips. And everything else became irrelevant at this moment. His fever fell down off him like a wet blanket. And the voices of his mother, repeating that she was expecting a lot of pure-blooded descendants, and father, mumbling something about the “real” service to Cardassia, became silent.  
  
“See you in an hour on holodeck three, Ensign,” said the Chief Engineer archly and kissed him in the eyeridge before leaving his quarters back for Treasure’s bridge.  
  
Namin took a deep breath that was still hard to do. His father was wrong. If he could persuade at least one intelligent being that the Cardassians are all different, then his endeavours were not in vain. If he could gain friendship and love of just a few, but loyal aliens, then he succeeded. The first steps are always the most difficult ones, the first wins are never enough when you thirst for more. As a good counselor, he knew all that. As a Cardassian, he was not going to surrender in the face of any obstacles. And as a Starfleet officer, he would never reject his ideals. Even if that meant to be rejected by those, for whose sake he was following them.


End file.
